


All Right, Griffin?

by caramelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, i mean... does it count as 'lovers' if they kiss akjdhskf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: A girl in a red wig and full Hogwarts uniform stands in the middle of Diyoza's office, looking him up and down."You're my James?"He flinches, not expecting the heavily skeptical tone."I am," he says, tugging at his tie self-consciously before remembering that it'ssupposedto be askew.The one where Bellamy works at Warner Bros. Studio Tour London playing James Potter, and they've just hired a new Lily Evans.





	All Right, Griffin?

**Author's Note:**

> _BFF prompt: I'd like a Modern AU where Bellamy is working as James Potter at Warner Bros. Studio Tour London and Clarke is the newly-hired Lily Evans. People end up asking them for photos in cute but compromising poses. She has the worst opinions on harry potter but a couple of kisses and touches can't hurt, or that's what he thought._

  
  
  
  


 

The best part about working at a theme park is seeing the wonder on people's faces. No one's ever unhappy or sad at a theme park,  _ especially  _ not a Harry Potter-themed one. It's nice to think about thousands of people coming in every day, physically leaving their troubles behind for a few hours of entertainment and pure joy.

 

The worst part about working at a theme park is everything else.

 

Number one, the hours are terrible.  _ Terrible.  _ By the end of every shift, Bellamy usually finds himself unable to feel anything from the waist down because he's been on his feet for about ten or twelve hours straight. He usually can't feel anything from the neck up, either. It's the smiling. He always has to be  _ smiling,  _ all the damn time. (That's number two, by the way.)

 

The food is almost always sub-par. Too much salt, too much grease, never enough greens. But it's completely free for all employees, which is a sure warning sign that if anyone tries to complain about it, they're getting the boot. 

 

The costume… well. He doesn't actually  _ mind  _ the costume all that much. He could definitely have it a lot worse —Miller has to play a fucking  _ Death Eater.  _ Try wearing that fucking mask-and-cloak combination for an entire shift—so he's careful not to complain. He still has to wear the Hogwarts uniform-and-robe combination, but he's lucky enough to play schoolboy-era James Potter, so he gets to wear the black robe open and the knotted red tie a lot looser around his neck. Like a real boarding school rebel. 

 

Thankfully, his hair is just long and thick enough that with enough of the right product, he can get away without having a wig forced onto him. Harper complains about her bushy Hermione wig about sixteen times a day. 

 

In the four months he's worked at the WB Studio Tour London, he's taken thousands of photos with thousands of visitors, but so far he hasn't had to do anything outright uncomfortable just yet. That's mostly thanks to the fact that they don't have anyone to play Hogwarts-era Lily Evans on staff just yet. The last one quit a few weeks before he got hired, and management's been way too busy to spend any real effort on finding a replacement for her. Meanwhile, adult Lily Evans looks  _ far  _ too old in her beret and tweed coat to be making kissy faces with a boy still in school uniform, so management makes sure to space them out in opposite ends of the studio. 

 

Having seen some of the poses Harper and Jasper have been asked to do as Hermione and Ron, Bellamy can't help but be a little bit grateful for his lack of a romantic counterpart.

 

That is, until now. 

 

"Congratulations, Potter," Miller says when he flops down into the makeup chair next to his, in his low Death Eater rumble. "You're gettin' a girlfriend."

 

"Knock it off," Bellamy says in his normal accent. All the 'cast' are required to undergo accent training, even if they're locals instead of foreign students like most of them are. It's become something of a joke amongst the employees, one that Bellamy would play along with if he weren't currently fifteen minutes behind schedule thanks to his thesis mentor failing to show up on time for their consultation session. 

 

"No, seriously," Miller says in his normal accent, watching as Bellamy hurries to slather primer all over his face. "You didn't see the news? You got a leading lady."

 

They all have to share makeup tables and tools, which is convenient but also not great for keeping their dressing rooms organised. Bellamy rifles hastily through the mess in an attempt at locating his foundation shade and knocks over a bottle of something in the process, swearing reflexively. "I've been a little distracted lately," he says, one hand still rubbing primer into his cheeks.

 

"Getting a Ph.D will do that to you," Miller comments sagely.

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes, snatching up the correct foundation and popping it open. "Get to the point."

 

"Lily Evans, man. They found her."

 

He stops, foundation bottle frozen mid-pour over the back of his hand. "What?"

 

"New hire. They sent out an email about it." Miller tilts his head. "You think that's enough makeup for today?"

 

Bellamy curses at the unusually large, thick puddle of foundation pooling onto the back of his hand and quickly rights the bottle, setting it back onto the vanity table. "Who's the newbie?" he says, grabbing the nearest brush that looks the closest to clean and dabbing it into the makeup. 

 

"Claire something. Don't remember." Miller claps a hand onto Bellamy's back, nearly sending the brush into his eye. "You'll meet her before your shift starts, anyway. Diyoza wants to see you both in five minutes."

 

Bellamy whips around to stare at him incredulously. "You couldn't have led with  _ that _ ?!" he demands, before whirling back around to start buffing foundation into his skin in double-time, arm moving so fast he's already starting to cramp up a little. 

 

Miller leans back in his chair and laughs his creepy Death Eater laugh, making Fox jump as she passes behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

Bellamy makes it to Diyoza's office with barely a minute to spare.

 

"Hey," he says breathlessly, knocking and barrelling through the door all in one movement. "You wanted to see me?"

 

To his surprise, Diyoza's not there.

 

Someone else is, though.

 

A girl in a red wig and full Hogwarts uniform stands in the middle of Diyoza's office, looking him up and down.

 

"You're my James?" 

 

He flinches, not expecting the heavily skeptical tone. Or that unusually husky voice. Most of these theme park costume girls tend to have higher-pitched timbres. 

 

"I am," he says, tugging at his tie self-consciously before remembering that it's  _ supposed  _ to be askew. Right.  _ Get it together, Blake.  _

 

He drops his hand and shakes his head, making sure to meet her eye. "Claire, right?"

 

To his surprise, her green eyes narrow sharply at him. " _ Clarke,"  _ she snaps. "It's Clarke."

 

_ Jesus.  _ Someone's touchy. 

 

Nevertheless, he brushes it off, determined to stay professional. "I'm—" 

 

The door bursts open, Diyoza striding through with a tablet in one hand and her walkie-talkie held up to her mouth in the other. "I don't care, McCreary. Figure it out or fuck off," she says briskly, before clicking off the line and sliding the walkie into the holster at her hip. She nods at both of them in turn. "Blake, Griffin. You've already met, good. Don't bother sitting, this won't take long." She strides behind her desk and sets her tablet down right in the middle, gesturing for them to lean over it. "It's been a while since we've had both a James and Lily in the studio, so we're gonna take advantage of you guys as much as we can. Pardon the wording." She pulls up a large map of the studio. "Okay, so you guys are gonna start here..." 

 

Bellamy struggles to pay attention to his boss, willing himself not to be distracted by the girl standing just inches from him, her brow furrowed as she focuses on Diyoza's tablet. She has a really nice side profile, he thinks absently. Like, he's seen a lot of side profiles in his day, but, like, just objectively speaking, she has a  _ really  _ nice—

 

"... until the last hour or so, so you can just stick around Diagon Alley." Diyoza looks up. "Clear?"

 

"Clear," Clarke says, nodding promptly.

 

"Clear," Bellamy echoes, and then hesitates. "Uh—just to, ah, be clear. Are we—" Noting the impatient look starting to cloud over Diyoza's face, he steels himself and goes for it. "Are we following all the regular photo-taking protocols, or the one for couples?"

 

"You're a couple," Diyoza says flatly. "What do you think?"

 

He scratches at his head. "Well, technically, James and Lily weren't a couple until—" He catches the dangerous glint in Diyoza's eye and cuts himself short. "Couples protocol, got it."

 

Her gaze flicks to Clarke. "Any other questions? No? Get out there, then."

 

 

 

"They were already a couple, by the way," Clarke says once they're out of Diyoza's office and striding along to the exit that leads to the public areas. "While they were still in Hogwarts."

 

He throws her a look, torn between surprise and annoyance. "Yeah, but it wasn't until Year Seven."

 

She shrugs. "So… they were still in Hogwarts."

 

Frowning, he taps emphatically at the shiny red and gold 'P' pinned to the front of his open robes. "Do you see this Prefect badge? That means we're playing James and Lily  _ before  _ they became Head Boy and Girl. As in,  _ before  _ Year Seven."

 

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Are you always this much of a nerd," she asks, "or is it just with Harry Potter?" Before he can so much as blink, she strides ahead, pulling away from him with impressive expediency. 

 

"It's  _ Harry Potter, _ " he mutters to himself sullenly.  _ Everyone's  _ a nerd when it comes to Harry Potter.

 

He slows his pace by half, determined to put as much distance between them as possible.

 

 

* * *

 

He spends most of the day successfully avoiding Clarke, although he does get several comments from visitors on the subject, ranging from  _ "Is that Lily we saw in the Potions classroom?"  _ to _ "Oh, I would have loved to get a photo with you and your Lily!"  _ and, decidedly his least favourite, the tactlessly point-blank  _ "Why aren't you with Lily?"  _

 

He comes up with random excuses as best as he can while trying to stay in character, but for the most part, he beats a hasty exit wherever he thinks he can get away with it. 

 

He does pretty well up until the last ninety minutes or so of his shift when Monroe finds him on Platform 9 ¾ and waves him over .

 

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hisses, somehow managing to keep her conductor's smile plastered on her face. "Diyoza just radioed in. You're supposed to be in Diagon Alley!"

 

"Oh, right," he says, not even bothering to keep the reluctance out of his voice. "I guess I should head over there now."

 

"You think?!" Monroe retorts, and then salutes at him, raising her voice for the benefit of the wide-eyed passersby around them. "And have a wonderful journey to Hogwarts, young lad!"

 

He drags his feet accordingly to Diagon Alley, where he instantly spots a small mob outside Flourish and Blotts.  _ Oh, no,  _ he thinks, spotting a distinct flash of red hair in the middle of it all. The alley's a single straight stretch, so there's no hope of squeezing past without being noticed. All the same, he has no other choice, so he strafes on over to the farthest side of the street and starts forward.

 

"Oh my God ! It's  _ James Potter!"  _

 

He winces, but just manages to get his trademark grin onto his face before two girls can descend on him. 

 

"Hello, hello, girls," he says, cocking his shoulder back in the easy way he's come to associate with James Potter over four months of pretending to be him. 

 

"It's really him!" the second girl shrieks, and as if by some silent telepathic communication, they flank him, each latching on to one of his arms.

 

"We  _ have  _ to get a Jily shot!" the first girl squeals across him to her friend, the sound practically piercing through his eardrums. He winces. Clarke probably doesn't even know what 'Jily' is. 

 

"Easy on the robes!" he says, barely managing to maintain his accent as he casts panicked glances at where they're each gripping his costume. Niylah will  _ kill  _ him if he gets so much as a spot on his jet black robes. "Really, ladies, there's no need to —"

 

He's shoved forward all of a sudden, and he stumbles forward, looking up to see that he's in front of a small gaggle of about six or seven goggling teenagers, barely three feet from—

 

He clears his throat and drops one shoulder, slipping into a familiar confident stance. His chin lifts; his head cocks. He flashes a roguish grin. "All right, Evans?"

 

Before Clarke can react, their audience starts screaming. Actually _screaming._

 

Several other passersby stop to see what the fuss is about and, when they notice him and Clarke standing there, quickly approach with excited interest, whipping out phones and cameras as they go. They practically have a whole football team watching them now, plus a few extras. 

 

Bellamy's gaze flicks towards them and then back to Clarke. She meets his eye squarely, and her chin dips almost imperceptibly in the world's smallest nod. 

 

"I  _ was, _ at least until you came along, Potter," she retorts, tossing her hair.  _ Shit,  _ he thinks, almost letting his brows shoot up in surprise. Her accent's actually pretty damn good—certainly better than anyone's should be on their very first day.

 

Willing himself to focus on staying in character, he barks a laugh. "Oh, that wounds," he says, clapping a hand to his chest. "You could apologise for that by saying you'll go out with me?"

 

She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid."

 

At that line, their audience devolves into another bout of screaming. Clarke glances at them, and then back at him, the corner of her mouth quirking. He's still grinning, but truth be told, it no longer has anything to do with James Potter. 

 

"Can we get a photo!" someone calls from the crowd, and before either of them can say yes, they're being shoved towards each other by two overeager Potterheads. 

 

Clarke puts both her hands on her hips, so he clamps down on the instinct to put his arm around her and slips his own hands into his robes. That instantly draws a series of dismayed shouts from the growing crowd, more and more visitors drawn closer by the constant commotion.

 

"Go on, put your arm around her!" a woman yells from under her gift shop-bought Sorting Hat, and her suggestion is met with raucous agreement. 

 

Bellamy shifts closer to Clarke, and gingerly places his arm around her shoulders. "Sorry," he mutters through his teeth—but to his surprise, she merely laughs and throws not one, but  _ both  _ of her arms around his waist.

 

"Smile, Potter!" she says, and grins wide just as a barrage of screams and camera flashes starts up in full force. 

 

"It's Jily! It's Jily in real life!" he hears one voice scream through the noise. 

 

"Oh my God, they're  _ perfect!" _ another sighs. 

 

He blinks, taking in the moment with surreal awe. He'd always known that James and Lily were a weirdly popular ship on the Internet—weird only because, well, they're both dead. How exciting can that be?—but he's never really  _ seen  _ evidence of it in real life until right now.

 

A lanky kid in a Hufflepuff sweatshirt stretches up on his toes, one hand cupped around his mouth. "Oi, kiss her, mate!" 

 

The idea is quickly taken up by everyone else, and soon all they're hearing from the crowd is  _ "yeah, kiss her"  _ and  _ "go on then"  _ and  _ "plant one on her". _

 

He looks down at Clarke, dropping character for a split second to frown concernedly at her. She definitely doesn't need this kind of pressure on her very first day. "We don't have to," he starts to say, but before he can get a single syllable out, her hand is wrapping firmly around the knot of his tie and he's being yanked down so his mouth lands surely on hers. 

 

It's actually… not a terrible feeling.

 

He even forgets the crowd and the camera flashes going off like firecrackers beyond his closed eyelids for a second or two. He's too caught up, caught up in how soft and warm her lips are against his, and how soft and warm her body is against his, and how soft and warm her hand is as it curves lightly around the back of his neck and then drops away before he can really start to memorise the feel of her fingertips on his skin and all of a sudden her lips are pulling back from his—

 

"All right," Clarke laughs, stepping out of the circle of his arms to face the crowd. "Who wants a photo with the future Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts?"

 

* * *

 

They spend the next hour completely swamped. People are actually  _ lining up  _ to take pictures with them, and they barely get a second to catch their breaths before the announcements for the studio's closing rings through the alley. 

 

"Come back and see us again soon!" Clarke says, with a bright smile. It's clearly an attempt to appease the disappointed visitors, but it actually  _ works.  _ They clear off without another word of complaint, waving and shouting cheery goodbyes as they go. 

 

Clarke exhales once the main lights go off, the music signalling the cast's dismissal drifting in over the speakers. "God," she says, reverting to her natural accent. "This job is  _ exhausting."  _

 

He clears his throat, trying not to  _ stare.  _ "We should get back to the dressing rooms. There might be a debrief."

 

She gestures vaguely. "Lead the way." Together they turn, and start towards the backstage dressing rooms.

 

Bellamy glances at her out of the corner of his eye. It hasn't escaped his notice that ever since their kiss was broken, she hasn't actually met his gaze, not even once. She'd spent the entire hour keeping herself busy with the visitors, and merely looking at either his shoulder or the top of his head whenever she addressed or referred to him. She didn't even meet his eye when someone asked them to do a cheesy prom pose with her back pressed to his chest, not even to share a surreptitious  _ what-the-fuck  _ look—the one that usually passes between co-workers when dealing with embarrassing requests from customers. 

 

All in all, he's got the distinct feeling that he's not the only one still thinking about the kiss.

 

"Wow, Monty wasn't kidding," she says, a little abruptly. "This smiling thing really makes your face hurt."

 

"You did good," he says, his voice croaking slightly. It's been a while since he's had to interact  _ this much  _ with  _ this many  _ visitors. 

 

"I was all right," she says dismissively.

 

They lapse back into an awkward silence. Bellamy tries to keep his eyes from straying to her and his face from cringing outwardly at how  _ loud  _ their shoes are against the cobbled stone of Diagon Alley. He's never noticed that before. Mostly because it's never been this  _ quiet  _ before. 

 

"So you—" 

 

"Are we—"

 

They both break off, glancing at each other. 

 

"You go," he says.

 

She shakes her head. "No, I—" She stops again, a faint blossom of pink blooming on her cheeks. "Okay, I'll go. Earlier, when I—I don't know if that's allowed, or okay, but—"

 

He forces himself to keep a straight face. "If what's allowed?"

 

She pauses, her feet slowing significantly. "If… if  _ that's  _ allowed."

 

He slows to match her pace, head tilted as if in confusion. "If taking pictures with the guests is allowed?"

 

She stops altogether, the pink flush in her cheeks deepening to a rosier shade. "What? No. I mean earlier, when we—when I—" 

 

He waits patiently, making sure to look as blankly oblivious as possible. 

 

She gives up with a small huff, looking around as if checking for eavesdroppers and then back at him. "When I  _ kissed _ you," she says. Her tone clips in an imitation of annoyance, but her eyes and the set of her mouth exude nervousness. For a second, he's struck by how oddly endearing he finds her ability to convey such polarising sentiments simultaneously. 

 

His endearment fails to overshadow the spike of smug success at having gotten her to say it, actually  _ say it  _ out loud. 

 

_ She  _ kissed _ him.  _ She  _ kissed  _ him. 

 

"Ah," he says, as neutrally as possible. "So you're referring to when you grabbed me by the tie and kissed me." He pauses, taking in her visible discomfort. He's only known her a day, but he gets the impression that it's not a feeling she's too familiar with. 

 

"On the mouth," he adds, suppressing the urge to smile. "In front of all those people."

 

She rolls her eyes, but the colour in her cheeks is still high. "I wasn't trying to—look, I know it's not exactly  _ against  _ any of the official protocol for us to—for  _ that,  _ but I just—"

 

He holds up a hand, faux confusion giving way to genuine puzzlement. "Wait, what? You read the employee handbook?  _ All  _ of it?"

 

She looks vaguely offended. "Aren't we supposed to?"

 

He blinks. "Yeah, but nobody's—Jesus, you actually  _ read  _ that?!"

 

She fidgets, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I had some free time last night."

 

"You read the whole thing  _ in one night?!"  _

 

She shrugs, the movement stilted. "It's, like, fifty-two pages. It's not a big deal."

 

A slow grin stretches across his face. "Oh my God. You're a nerd."

 

Her gaze finally snaps to his, her eyes meeting his without deflecting or flicking away. 

 

"What?" she says, her jaw slackening. "No I'm n—"

 

He shakes his head, still grinning. "You're a nerd. You spent all this time calling me a nerd, but the true nerd was you all along."

 

She huffs impatiently. "I didn't spend  _ 'all this time'  _ doing anything, I've literally been here for  _ one—" _

 

He whistles. " _ Nerd."  _

 

She makes this small noise under her breath, somewhere between a groan and a yelp. "Well, it takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

 

He looks at her, finally letting a genuine smile slip through. "I'd give some thought to who you're insulting here, considering I wasn't the first person to throw that word around."

 

Her mouth splits in a smile, one that lights up her entire face. She shakes her head, ducking away as if trying to hide it, if something so bright could even be hidden. "All right, okay, fine. You got me. I'm a nerd, whatever. We're just a couple of giant nerds, standing here getting paid to spend the entire day in cosplay."

 

"And kiss."

 

She stiffens, eyes flicking to his. "What?"

 

"I mean, we're probably not getting paid to do  _ that,  _ but I could be wrong. I haven't read the  _ entire _ employee handbook."

 

She rolls her eyes at that little jab he squeezes in, but the slight frown returns to her face, the space between her brows creasing. "Uh, about that. That wasn't—I mean, I'm—" Her gesturing hands drop to her sides. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I should have checked with you to make sure it was okay before I—you know."

 

He's silent, mostly because he's trying to compose the best way to say what's currently on his mind, and a little because he's still secretly enjoying making her sweat a bit. It's a nice change from her cool, brisk demeanour of their first meeting. 

 

When she finally drags her gaze up to his, he tilts his head, pursing his lips like he's deep in thought. After another beat, he says, "It's okay. I don't mind."

 

She stares at him. Apparently, that's not what she expected him to say.

 

"You don't," she echoes, not even bothering to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

 

He shrugs. "We're in costume. We're playing characters. Nothing wrong with a kiss or two."

 

She nods, but it's delayed. "Right. Nothing wrong with that."

 

He squints. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if you did it out of costume, either."

 

Her mouth opens, and then closes, and drops open again. " _ What—"  _

 

"Come on, Griffin," he says breezily, ambling down the pavement before she can continue. "Diyoza hates latecomers. Wouldn't want you to get fired now."

 

Her shoes patter on the cobbled stone as she hurries after him.  _ "Nerd,"  _ he hears her mutter under her breath, and for some reason, even though he can't see it, he knows without a doubt that she's smiling. Maybe it's because he is, too.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? feelings??
> 
> also just a heads up, i've changed my [tumblr url](http://scifibi.tumblr.com)!


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